First Week Back
by delia84
Summary: Brennan and Booth's first week back together is bound to be interesting — a mixture of rough, funny, and random scenes as they adjust to being back together. (May turn to light M later on, but solid T for now.) Each chapter is a look at each night of their first week. Spoilers from episode 1 of season 8.
1. Night 1: Sharing Life

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Booth groaned as the sound of his daughter's wails came over the baby monitor. He opened one eye to glance at the clock: 2:17 a.m.

"Damn … I thought we had her this time." He felt the mattress shift slightly as Brennan untangled herself from his arms.

"I warned you she was likely to do this all night." Brennan rubbed her eyes, swinging her legs off the bed. "Just turn off the monitor and try to sleep — no reason for both of us to be up."

"You know I'm not going to do that."

Brennan shuffled into the nursery, picking up her speed as the pitch of Christine's cries changed. "Shhhh, sweetheart, I'm here. It's OK — I heard you the first time." She stroked the baby's head, and gently began rubbing circles on her chest. "I'm right here, shhhhhhh."

Christine's tiny arms flailed, reaching for Brennan, who, against her better judgment, picked her up to rock her.

"I know you don't remember where we are, but we're home," Brennan soothed, brushing away the tears on her daughter's cheeks. "This is your room — you slept here every night without Mama or Grandpa in the bed next to you. You're fine. You just have to get used to it again."

Christine's sobs stopped for a moment, but she began to whine, curling her fingers tightly around Brennan's shirt.

"I've got you. You're safe, Christine." Brennan placed a soft kiss on the baby's head. "Daddy is in the next room. Trust me — nothing is going to get past your Daddy. It's OK to fall asleep — we're right next door."

Booth smiled, hearing Brennan's rational words over the baby monitor. He climbed out of bed, heading downstairs to grab his solution to the problem.

"Want me to rock you? Let's see if that will put you back to sleep." Brennan walked over to the rocker, sighing as she sat down. "Oh Christine … you are so tired. Will you stay asleep for me?"

A few moments later, Booth appeared in the doorway. "Hey."

"I thought you were asleep."

He shook his head. "Got the solution."

Brennan shot him a quizzical look. "What?"

"I put the pack and play in our bedroom."

"Booth…"

"I know, I know. She needs to learn to sleep on her own. I agree one hundred percent." Booth walked over to Brennan, and leaned to place a kiss on her lips. "However, you and I have _got _to rest tonight. We need it. Christine needs it."

"So we let the small human win tonight?"

He smiled. "It'll work. She's used to sleeping with someone else in the room."

"And sleeping with someone else in the bed sometimes," Brennan admitted.

"Really?"

She nodded. "Dad couldn't always track down a pack and play for us, and most of the motels didn't offer cribs. She slept with me probably two or three weeks the whole time."

Booth suddenly had the urge to punch Max. "Your father didn't send you off with a pack and play for his own granddaughter?"

"He did." Brennan hesitated. "We had to leave it behind unexpectedly during our second month. It's a long story."

"You had to make a run for it one night and leave everything behind, didn't you?"

She nodded silently, pressing another kiss to Christine's head.

Knowing now wasn't the time to discuss that piece of information, Booth went back to the original subject. "No wonder she won't stay asleep tonight. She's in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar bed, and no one else in the room or in bed with her. It's probably way quieter here than it was in those motels, and way darker in her room than she's used to. That's a lot of changes for anyone. She's scared, Bones. She keeps waking up and nothing is what she's used to."

Brennan sighed, looking down at Christine, who was still sniffling and clinging to her shirt. "I know."

"Let her win tonight. We'll fight this battle the rest of the week."

"Hopefully she'll be OK in a night or two." Brennan stood up. "She adjusts very well."

The two went back to their bedroom, where Brennan sat in bed with Christine until her tiny eyelids finally stayed closed. She placed her in the pack and play by her side of the bed, then laid down next to Booth.

"Thank you," she murmured drowsily into his chest.

"Hmm?"

"I wasn't thinking completely clearly. All those changes are a lot for an infant to deal with …" She sighed. "I just hope there's not many more adjustments."

He stroked her hair gently. "It's OK. There's going to be adjustments. And we're going to get through them just fine."

"You say that so confidently."

"We always get through them. We're finished with the hardest part. We've got our life back together."

"Lives," she corrected. "We've got our lives back together."

"Life," he insisted. "We're sharing it, remember? We've got _our life_ back together. Separation was the hardest part, and adjusting to and dealing with that separation is the next hardest part. But we're adjusting together. We're not alone."

She was quiet for a few moments.

"You OK?"

She nodded into his chest. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so glad I'm not alone."

He smiled, resisting the split second urge he had to let a few tears fall at her honest admission. After a whole life of insisting she could do it alone, she was finally being honest.

"Me too, Bones. Me too."

* * *

_For anyone wondering why I wrote the sentence, "Christine's tiny arms flailed, reaching for Brennan, who, against her better judgment, picked her up to rock her."_ — _I wrote this because if Brennan really was trying to get Christine to get used to sleeping alone, she'd likely not pick her up (because that only teaches a baby that crying will get her picked up and out of bed!) I don't have kids myself, but I've worked as a nanny — I've had multiple sweet mommas ask me to try to soothe their baby back to sleep by rubbing his/her back/singing/quietly talking to them/etc. instead of picking them up — sounds means, but it does work! (Any mommas out there to back me up?)_

_Thank you for your kind encouragements to write more. Please let me know what you think about this one. I have general ideas for the rest of the nights in this series, but I do welcome prompts — I could use a little inspiration!_

_Next up: With a little help from a certain curly-headed squint, Booth gets Brennan buzzed._


	2. Night 2: You're not going blind

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

As Brennan had hoped, Christine adjusted better to her nursery the following night. She had protested her two naps during the day, which frustrated Brennan; however, it ended up making her so tired that she quickly fell asleep at bedtime.

Brennan had gone into the office for the afternoon, taking a cranky Christine with her to greet the staff and pick up boxes of paperwork. Booth had worked half a day as well, coming home with almost a matching amount of paperwork, statements, and files.

The two had eaten dinner while pouring over case files. Enjoying the normalcy of it all, they didn't leave the couch until Booth finally glanced up at the clock and winced. "We've been working for two hours."

Brennan nodded, fully aware of the time.

"This is _not_ what we should be doing on our second night home," he muttered, getting off the couch.

Engrossed in one of Clark's reports, Brennan merely shrugged her shoulders, not saying a word. She barely realized Booth was in the kitchen until she heard his voice.

"Here."

Brennan looked up from her paperwork to see him grinning, holding out a glass.

"What's this?"

"No asking, just drinking." He sat down next to her and clinked their glasses together. "We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"Our daughter staying asleep for almost three straight hours tonight."

She smiled. "So far."

"Don't jinx her!" Booth took a long gulp of his drink. "Ahhh."

Brennan hesitantly tried a small sip. "What is this?"

"Secret recipe."

"It's strong." She took a longer sip. "It's good."

"I know."

"Seriously, what is it?"

"Can't tell you. Hodgins swore me to secrecy."

She immediately set the drink down. "This is a Hodgins concoction? Am I going to go blind in the next hour?"

"Nope. It's safe."

"Did he brew any of this in the lab?"

"I can't confirm or deny that. But hey, you said it's good."

"It is." She smiled, reaching for her glass again. "You're trying to get me drunk."

"Me? Nooooo."

"Oh yes you are."

"Never."

She rolled her eyes. "Help me finish this stack of papers. Then we'll keep drinking."

"You're no fun."

"That is not the way to sex me up, Booth." She almost laughed at the startled expression on his face. "What?"

"You know that expression now? Damn, that's sexy."

"Still not the way to sex me up."

He faked a pout. "Why do we have to do this paperwork?"

"Because you and I both have loads of it. We'll be doing it for months if we don't do a little every night. Plus, I have countless emails and grading to do, as well as selecting a batch of new interns."

"OK, back to the grind. But in an hour, we go to bed."

"I won't be that tired in an hour. It won't even be ten …" She caught herself with a laugh. "Oh."

"Ah hah. My crazy-smart, sexy scientist figured out what I meant by 'bed.'"

She grinned, tempting him with a quick kiss.

"Mmm." Booth leaned into the kiss, quickly threading one hand through Brennan's hair and sneaking the other one under her shirt.

She immediately swatted his hand and pulled back. "Stop. You know I said we have to do paperwork first."

"Bones, I am _dying_ here."

"You're not dying. And we had sex this morning and a good makeout session this afternoon."

"Not enough."

"I agree. The faster we finish the paperwork, the more time we have for sex. Now stop making it worse and help."

He sighed. "I'm not winning this time, am I."

"Nope. Might as well get some work done for the next hour."

The time crawled for Booth, and he managed to refill their glasses once, watching for any hints that Brennan might be getting tipsy.

When the hour was almost up, Brennan's phone chirped.

"If that's a squint, the answer is no …" Booth began.

Brennan fumbled with the buttons, realizing her fingers were slightly numb. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the text.

"_Whatd Booth give u drunk tonite"_

"Who is it?"

"Angela. She appears to be intoxicated or very distracted." Brennan texted back, _"I think you mean what did Booth give me to drink tonight. He gave me something he and Hodgins have prepared."_

She set her phone down, only to have it buzz again with a text reading, _"How much u have & is it goud"_ Brennan replied with, _"Almost 2 glasses. Yes, it's very good. It almost reminds me of a strong cider."_

Her phone was quiet for a few minutes, and she continued working until it buzzed again. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the letters on the screen.

"Angela drunk texting again?" Booth asked.

"No. It's Hodgins." Her eyes narrowed as she read the text.

"_Dr. B, don't finish that second glass. I gave Angie two shots, and she's a goner. I can't believe Booth was stupid enough to give you that much pure alcohol. You may want to induce vomiting."_

"Seeley Booth. You gave me two glasses of _moonshine_!"

"Two glasses of straight moonshine would kill a bear — I didn't give you pure moonshine!"

"But it's moonshine! Dammit, I'm going to be so drunk!" Her eyes blazed. "And that's just what you wanted."

"I just thought you needed something to take the edge off with all this work."

"You wanted to skip paperwork and have sex." She stood, quickly catching herself as she swayed. "If you wanted to take the edge off, you'd have given me scotch, or whiskey, or hell, even tequila. Not moonshine."

Booth opened his mouth, but stayed quiet as Brennan's phone went off again. She reached for it, and nearly fell over the coffee table.

"_lets kill our husbands. So hammered. Not fair."_

Brennan was unable to hold back a giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Angela suggests we kill both you and Hodgins."

"What?"

"We would certainly get away with it." She struggled to text Angela back, swaying as she typed into her phone.

"Easy, Bones." Booth grabbed her elbow.

"I'm not drunk yet."

"'Yet' being the operative word there." He watched as Brennan tossed her phone on the coffee table, hiding a grin as it skid off the table.

"Oh well." She shrugged her shoulders and sat back down, keeping herself balanced against one of the couch's arms.

"You're really going to keep doing paperwork?"

She picked up a couple folders, swearing as she dropped two of them. "Pick those up."

"Yes ma'am."

"It's your fault that I'm tipsy." She opened another folder, pulled out several pieces of paper, and begin to flip through them. After a minute, she sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Tired?"

She tossed the papers at Booth. "Bed. Now."

He grinned triumphantly and couldn't resist a fist pump. "I win!"

"You cheated," she accused, reaching for Booth's hand to help her off the couch. "And I don't reward cheaters."

"You wouldn't …" He pulled her off the couch, letting her fall straight into his chest.

Now it was her turn to grin. "I would."

"Bones," he whined. "Really?"

"If I wasn't so drunk, I'd make you sleep on the couch … but," she sighed, leaning into him. "I think I'm going to need your help with the stairs."

"Let's get you to bed." He walked her into the kitchen, one arm around her shoulders, and placed their glasses in the sink. She stumbled several times as they headed towards the stairs, and he couldn't help but laugh at how quickly the alcohol had hit her.

"Shut up."

Booth caught her as she tipped forward at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah, this isn't going to work."

"Booth!" She immediately protested as he picked her up and went up the stairs. "Whoa … slow down. Too fast."

She clumsily shed her clothes and struggled to get herself into bed. Booth brushed his teeth, changed, and came in to find her with one hand on her forehead and a concentrated look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"You're sure I'm not going to go blind?"

"Yeah, baby. You're not going blind. You're just drunk."

"I'm having trouble seeing … the room appears to be spinning." She was slurring her words, and Booth found it irresistible.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and turned off the lamp. "Been a while since you've been this drunk, huh?"

"If … I wake up blind," she yawned halfway through her sentence, "I'll be very angry with you."

"Oh, I don't think so," he teased.

"Hey, it's dark," she realized. "Is that why I can't see?"

"God, Bones. You are _wasted_!"

She moaned slightly as she turned over. "Ugh. Head. Hurts."

"Already?"

"Remind me to … punch you tomorrow. And … to kill Hodgins tomorrow morning at the lab."

"You won't make it to the lab in the morning. Trust me. Plus, Angela will kill him first."

"Nah. She'll bring him to the lab … I will help her."

"The only help you and Angela are going to need is the mother of all hangover breakfasts."

"You're evil."

"Hey! I'll be making you said breakfast, thank you very much."

A sharp cry came through the baby monitor, and Brennan winced at the high pitch.

"Oh baby girl … not tonight," begged Booth. "You were doing so great … just go back to sleep."

Brennan giggled again, shifting in the bed.

"Uh uh, Bones. You're far too drunk to get up and hold her."

"Wasn't getting up." She reached for the covers as Booth pulled himself out of bed, laughing gleefully and mimicking Booth's fist pump. "I win!"

"I hate it when you use my lines on me," he grumbled, heading out into the hallway.

Booth changed and rocked Christine, quickly getting her to fall back asleep. He came back into the bedroom to find Brennan tangled up in the sheets, sprawled out across the mattress and clutching his pillow tightly.

"Hey, scoot over." He nudged her, then tried again. "Bones."

She stirred just slightly.

"Bones. Move over."

"You. Couch."

"Uh uh."

"No room … couch. I win."

As his own head began to buzz, Booth slid into the tiny free section of the bed, hanging precariously close to the edge. "Jack Hodgins … you're a dead man."

* * *

_Anyone else ever tried moonshine? My first taste was at a football tailgate — clear liquid out of a mason jar, served from the back of a pick up truck. I did wonder if I might go blind or start hallucinating. My most recent sampling was a homemade apple pie moonshine, which is deadly because it's sweet — you have no idea how strong it is, especially if you mix it into another drink. That's kind of what I had in mind for this piece (which is why Brennan says it reminds her of a strong cider)._

_Also, thank you for your kind reviews, follows, and favorites! I really appreciate it._

_Next up: Haven't quite decided yet. Either something to do with Daisy (don't worry, only a quick appearance/mention) or Brennan accidentally scaring Booth in the middle of the night. Votes? (Both are current works in progress, but if you want to read a particular one first, let me know.)_


	3. Night 3: Payback

_Night 3 picks up using the storyline from the previous night, so if you haven't read night 2, you might want to do that first. Thanks to casket4mytears for suggesting this chapter include Brennan dealing with her hangover and Daisy. (Ugh, can you imagine?!)_

_This isn't overly graphic, but I'm obviously labeling this chapter with an M rating because of what they're doing. (If this is too graphic for you, I apologize — I feel like it's fairly tame considering what else is out there!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Booth reached into the dishwasher for the silverware container, quickly putting away the still warm utensils. He checked the clock and then began to rinse the dirty dishes from dinner.

He saw headlights in the driveway and shook his head ruefully. "Bones, you are laaaate," he muttered, scrubbing at a stubborn food stain stuck to Christine's tray.

Even if he hadn't seen the headlights, Booth would have heard Brennan coming. Her heels clicked down the driveway and up the stairs to their front door, and she was loudly finishing up an argument over the phone before coming inside.

"I don't care what the situation was — his final exam was turned in late without notice. I'm not accepting it. The grade stands; and as policy dictates, he's out of the program for the semester."

Booth sighed. Brennan's return to teaching hadn't been the easiest transition — she had an unusually irritating bunch of overzealous grad students, and he knew she had spent her day fighting with the department head over grading matters, policies, and testing procedures that had been abandoned or adjusted during her absence.

The door swung open, and Brennan tossed her keys on the ottoman. "Dr. Phillips, I am home, and it is late." She paused, dropping her messenger bag on the island with a loud thud. "We'll resume this conversation at a later time, but I'm not budging on the matter. Good night."

Booth reached for a towel to dry off his hands and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Brennan pressed up against his back. "Bones, geez! How'd you get behind me so fast?" He spun around to find her still dressed in her lab coat, raking her fingers through his hair.

"Oh … _shit_."

In the year or so of Booth and Brennan being a couple, plus the many years of being partners, the two had many unspoken codes between them. Coming home in the lab coat was one of those codes, and it meant one thing.

Brennan needed sex.

She shot him a saucy grin before she wrapped her arms around his waist and back, running her fingers up and down his spine as she nearly attacked his neck with her lips.

"Whoa, baby, calm down!"

She shook her head fiercely, bracketing Booth between her legs, pressing the base of his spine into the countertop. He still had enough presence of mind to wonder how she was doing this. As he glanced down, he groaned at the obscenely tall heels she wore, knowing full well that wasn't what she'd left the house wearing that morning.

"New … _ah, Bones _… shoes, huh?"

She nodded, her lips making their way to his earlobe as her hands began to yank at his tucked in shirt.

"I like them," he managed to gasp.

"Good," she murmured, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on her chest. "Start here."

"Bossy." He grabbed her ponytail and held her in for a long kiss.

She broke away. "I get to be bossy."

"Oh?" He held back a moan as she slipped a hand into the waistband of his dress pants, gently scraping her nails against his hipbone. "Need to unwind?"

"That's putting it mildly," she muttered, launching into a hard kiss.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips.

"Uh uh. Not being sweet." She pulled back again, shaking her hair out as Booth pulled out her ponytail holder. "You're part of the reason I'm wound up."

"How?"

"You know how."

"How, baby?"

"Don't 'baby' me." She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. "I had to work all day with a horrific hangover. That is entirely your fault."

He couldn't hide his smile. "Sorry."

"No you're not."

"If it makes you feel better …" He snuck a quick kiss. "I had to work with a hangover, too."

"But not nearly as bad as mine. Hodgins informs me that you two drank moonshine on a regular basis while I was gone. You're used to it."

"You don't just 'get used to' moonshine, Bones."

"Stop arguing. You metabolize alcohol faster than I do. You were not nearly as hungover as I was, nor did you have to put up with all that I dealt with today." She clapped her hand over his mouth as he attempted to speak. "I'm not finished! You picked a terrible day to have me hungover. I have fielded calls and emails from the university all day long, as well as trying to catch up in the lab. I have two students who I've had to retroactively fail, and I had to report new grades today."

"I'm sorry, Bones." He leaned to kiss her again.

"Yeah, you're going to be." She grabbed his hand, which had strayed away from her chest, and placed it back on her lab coat. "Didn't I tell you to start here?"

"Yes."

"Then do it."

Both sets of hands went to work on the other's buttons — Booth on her lab coat, Brennan on his wrinkled button down.

"Are your nails done … oh … Bones." His hands stopped for a moment after undoing her first button. "_Please_ tell me you had a shirt on under this today at the lab."

"Took you long enough to notice," she huffed.

"Oh, I noticed — I noticed the minute you snuck up on me. I just thought you had something low cut on … this is _way_ better."

Her fingers flew, finishing the last button on Booth's shirt. "I did get my nails done," she purred, moving up to Booth's shoulders to help him shrug off the shirt. "Angela and I took naps and she made Hodgins do our nails."

Understandably, the mental image of Jack Hodgins painting four sets of fingernails on two women sleeping off their hangovers made Booth lose focus. He laughed, stilling his hands as he wigged out of his shirt.

She directed one of his hands back to her lab coat. "You're too slow."

"I'm tempted to rip it off you."

"Don't you dare. I'm not explaining that to Cam."

He finished the last button, gently sliding his hands up over her waist and chest to her shoulders. "Pretty."

"Thank you." She smiled wickedly, dropping her hands from his undershirt to allow her lab coat to fall to the floor.

His fingers traced the tight lace over her chest, and she let out an approving sigh as he caressed her neck and murmured against her collarbone, "I love you in black."

"You love me in anything."

"True."

She grabbed one of his hands, digging her nails into his skin just slightly as she moved it to the base of her spine. "Here."

His fingers sought out the zipper on her pencil skirt, but he quickly cheated. Slipping his fingers under the fitted waistband, he let them roam in a search. "What are you wearing …"

"Skirt. Off."

He didn't listen.

She dug her nails into his hand. "Skirt. Off."

"Geez, Bones, what did Hodgins do, give you actual metal nails?" Booth found the zipper and gave it an eager yank.

"Don't rip it! This one fits me perfectly."

His other hand moved from her chest to cup her hip. "Wouldn't dream of it. I love how this fits you."

She pressed up against him, running one hand up and down his back underneath his undershirt. "Hurry."

"Got it." He watched appreciatively as her skirt joined the lab coat on the floor. "Mmm, more black."

She pulled back, holding onto his shoulders as she carefully balanced, daintily stepping out of the skirt and kicking it to the side. "I _was_ wearing that all day," she admitted, helping him pull his undershirt off over his head.

"You're done wearing it now." He let both hands rest on one of her hips. Before she could protest, they heard the sound of ripping fabric, and the scrap of black lace fluttered to the floor.

"Booth!"

"I'll buy you another one." He reached up her back, headed for the clasp on her bra.

"Front clasp. And you're not taking it off."

"Why?"

Brennan had to hold back a laugh at the pained tone of Booth's voice. "Because you ruined half of the set."

"I won't ruin the bra."

"Nope."

"So you come into the house nearly topless under your labcoat, beg me to get your coat off, and then you won't let me finish the job?"

She nodded smugly.

"Not fair."

"I know."

"You're mean."

"Stop talking."

In a manner of seconds, the pair rid completely rid themselves of clothes, save Brennan's bra and stilettos, one of which had scratched Booth's calf after Brennan had hooked one leg over his hip. Two minutes after Booth had backed Brennan up against another counter, he had to clap a hand over her mouth to still her first outburst.

"The neighbors!"

"Will you stop being so paranoid?" She could barely keep her head up, but was fighting hard to maintain composure. "Harder."

"You're going to wake Christine."

"Nonsense." She gasped, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm more likely to wake …_ oh_ _yes_ … her when we're … _ahhhhhh, close_ … upstairs."

"You're losing control," he teased with a grin.

"Shut up. Harder."

Booth could feel Brennan's manicured nails scoring his skin as he pushed her against the countertop. If the rest of her body pressed flush against him didn't feel so damn good, he might have complained — he was definitely was going to have scratches covering his back.

Brennan was caught off guard and had to press her mouth against Booth's neck, unable to hear him hiss as she added teeth marks to his list of minor injuries for the night.

The guys at the gym were going to have an absolute field day with him tomorrow.

"_Worth it,"_ he thought, quickly tightening his grip around Brennan as she trembled and fell limp against his chest. He rubbed her shoulders gently, pressing gentle kisses into her hair as he waited for her to catch her breath.

Chest still heaving, she looked up and leaned in for a sweet kiss. "Thank you."

He laughed. "I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. You were bossy."

She pinched him playfully. "You enjoyed it."

"Hell yeah."

"Good. I'm not done."

"I paid the penalty for getting you hungover … let's go upstairs, shall we?"

"You forgot one very difficult part of my day. You still need to pay for that."

"What? What'd I forget?" He caught her eyes moving around their kitchen, and immediately he glanced at the refrigerator.

Right there on the nicely organized spreadsheet cataloging the Jeffersonian intern rotation — the current date was highlighted in red.

Booth had requested the schedule from Cam, stating that the FBI needed it; but both of them knew better. It was Booth's way of knowing which weeks were going to be harder or easier for Brennan — and which weeks she was likely to come home absolutely batshit crazy.

"Oh … _shit_."

She nodded silently.

"Baby, I am so, so sorry for getting you drunk the night before you had to work with Daisy."

"Damn right you are." She grabbed his hands and pulled, leaving tiny crescent marks in his skin as she lead him out of the kitchen. "Upstairs? I believe you owe me again."

* * *

_I try to update about once a week, but due to craziness with work and an out of town business trip this weekend, that may affect next week. I apologize! This chapter took me far longer to finish than I anticipated._

_Thanks again for your reviews and follows. I really appreciate them. I'll keep working on the next chapter … anything in particular you want me to try to include?_


	4. Night 4: Date Night

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Oh, thank God," Booth muttered as his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Please be a case."

The agent next to him in the meeting nodded, revealing that Booth hadn't been as quiet as he thought. "If it's not, I'm about to commit a murder to get us all out of this meeting."

It had been two hours, and the FBI HR showed no signs of letting up on things. Booth could almost feel his brain turning to mush — the buzz of his phone reminded him that he was still (barely) alive.

It was Angela.

"It's date night, studly. You will pick up your girlfriend at the Jeffersonian at 5:30 sharp to make your 6:15 dinner reservation. The rest of the night is up to you. Jack and I will keep Christine at your house (no need to interrupt her schedule) — and yes, Jack is armed and will watch your security feed like the paranoid man that he is. Have fun, and don't bring Brennan home before 11."

Booth sighed and pocketed his phone, annoyed at the nosy agent next to him who had attempted to read the text. "What'd it say?"

"None of your business."

"Someone's telling you to take Dr. B on date?"

"Wouldn't ever have to tell me that," came a murmur from across the table. "We'd be out every night."

The agent let out a yelp as Booth's foot connected with his shin under the table.

"Agent Morris?" The girl from HR shot him a puzzled look. "Everything OK?"

Booth glared at the agent threateningly.

"Yeah." The agent nodded. "Sorry. Uh … hit my shin. Under the table."

Booth's neighboring agent let out a chuckle, which quickly turned into a cough when Booth jabbed his elbow into his ribs.

"Agent Booth, are you disrupting my seminar?"

"Just taking care of a little business, Ms. Walker."

"I don't have the authority to refer you to anyone, but he does." The HR girl nodded her head in Hacker's direction.

Hacker merely rolled his eyes and mouthed the words, "Saw it."

"_Great,"_ Booth thought. _"Another anger management session with Sweets."_

* * *

Booth spent almost ten minutes trying to convince Hacker he didn't need therapy.

"They insulted Bones!"

"And you can take that out on them in the gym, not in an HR meeting. I'm being gracious by only requiring one session. Don't make me double it."

"OK, OK." Booth signed the paperwork, sighing. "Can I go now?"

"I've got to enter this into the system and then wait for Dr. Sweets to acknowledge it and accept it. After that, you're free to go."

Booth glanced at the clock. _"Angela's going to kill me."_

* * *

"You're late."

"I'm sorry."

"If I wasn't best friends with Temperance Brennan, I'd be tempted to murder you. But we both know I'd never get away with her unless I took her out, too." Angela shook her head. "But really. Twenty minutes late for date night? And you have a reservation."

"I'm sorry!"

"You better have a good excuse."

He sighed. "I kind of got in a little trouble at work."

Angela rolled her eyes. "You? Can't imagine that."

"Well, don't tell Bones. I'm going to have to tell her over a nice bottle of wine."

"Oh, you're being serious?"

"Yeah."

"Geez." Angela shrugged her shoulders. "Kind of hot."

He shook his head. "Where is she?"

"Her office. I tried to get her to quit working, but once she found out you were going to be late, she decided to finish a couple of things."

Booth quickly walked over to Brennan's office, poking his head in the door. "Hey, I'm here."

"Hi." She looked up from her computer with a smile. "What kept you?"

"Work. I'm very sorry."

"It's OK." She stood, grabbing her purse and messenger bag off her desk.

"You look nice."

"Thank you. Angela made me go home at lunch to get a dress." She accepted Booth's quick kiss. "Ready when you are."

"Let's go."

"Bye! Have fun — and remember, no curfew!" Angela called out.

* * *

She couldn't help but laugh when Booth confessed his reason for being late to the Jeffersonian.

"You elbowed one agent and kicked another under the table? And that earned you a session with Sweets?"

"Yes."

Brennan reached for her glass of wine, eyes narrowing as she took a sip. "Somehow I don't think you're telling me the whole story."

"That's what happened."

"What did the agent say to merit the kick?"

"That's not important." Booth suddenly felt the heel of her shoe against his foot. "Ouch!"

She grinned triumphantly.

"Fine. He, uh, took a crack a you."

"Oh?" She didn't even appear to be phased.

"Yeah. I overreacted a little bit."

She merely smiled.

"I'm glad you're not angry."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I know you. I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Of course you're going to defend me, even though I don't need defending."

"They said I shouldn't be forced to take you out for a date," he admitted quietly. "Truth be told, they're right."

She ceased running her finger around the stem of her wine glass and reached for his hand. "Booth. You and I both know tonight is simply because Hodgins is trying to atone for the moonshine incident. And Angela wants us to have some alone time, but realizes we need to feel comfortable leaving Christine."

"Still." Booth swallowed. "I did have plans to take you out, just not this week."

"Because it's our first week back together."

He nodded.

"That's not all of it."

Booth gave her a quizzical look.

"It's not. I can tell something else is bothering you."

"I'm fine, Bones."

"You're not." She was quiet for a minute, and then reached for her purse to check her phone. "If I call Angela now, we'll make it back in time."

"In time for what?"

"To put Christine to bed. You don't want anyone else putting her to sleep for a while, do you?"

His dumfounded silence answered her, and she glanced around the restaurant for their waiter.

"How'd you know?"

"I know you." She smiled. "Let's go." She waved to the waiter and mouthed the words, "Check, please."

"Bones, we haven't even eaten."

"We can continue date night at the house."

* * *

"Don't shoot, it's just us," Brennan called out, opening their front door.

Angela's laugh greeted them. "Come on in, you two." She immediately handed the clean, pajama-clad, and sleepy little girl to a slightly sheepish Booth. "She wants to snuggle tonight."

"Good." He kissed the top of Christine's head, and she nestled her head on his chest.

"Alrighty, time for us to head out. There's pizza and a bottle of wine on the counter — I don't care if you eat, but for the love of all things good and right in the world, drink the wine."

"Yes ma'am. Sorry I ruined your plans, Angela."

"Don't be." She grabbed her purse and gave Booth a pat on the shoulder. "Hodgins and I will take a raincheck on tonight and do it another time for you two."

"Absolutely." Hodgins nodded. "Whenever you guys need it."

"Thanks." Brennan gave Angela a quick hug. "We'll take you up on it soon."

Angela nodded understandingly. "Night."

Brennan slipped out of her high heels and uncorked the bottle of wine, watching with a smile as Booth continued to lull Christine into sleep.

"She's going to fall asleep on you."

"That's the plan." He looked up from the couch. "Join us?"

"Of course." She brought over two glasses and joined Booth on the couch, smiling at their daughter, who had passed out on Booth's chest.

"I'm taking you out in a week or two."

"OK."

"I mean it. You in a fancy dress, me in a nice suit. Good food, live music, dancing, not leaving until midnight, having to take a cab home because we're both a little tipsy, rolling into bed."

She leaned to kiss him. "Sounds fun."

He was quiet for a minute, staring down at Christine. "I'm sorry about date night."

"I'm not." She took a sip of her wine. "This is the perfect date night."

"Really?"

"Yes. You, me, sleeping Christine, comfortable couch, wine, being home. Perfect." She handed him the other glass, and he took a sip, smiling as she leaned against his shoulder.

"Want to use that raincheck for next Friday night?" he suggested.

She nodded.

"Good. It's a date."

* * *

_So this is how I pictured Booth during their first week back — trying to adjust, but desperately not wanting to be away from his girls (or miss anything, even the little things — like putting Christine to bed)._

_Thank you again for all the follows, alerts, and reviews. I greatly appreciate your feedback. If you write, be sure to mention it to me — I try to visit everyone's profiles, but I'm sure I've accidentally overlooked a few._

_Up next: Booth pulls a confession out of Brennan. It involves a shower … _


	5. Night 5: Yoga, Scars, & Detergent

_Two updates in less than a week? Clearly I'm slacking at work...you can enjoy the benefits of that!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Hey." Booth called out as he closed the front door behind him.

"Hey," came the returning call. "Your dinner's in the oven."

"You ate without me?" He walked into the den to see Brennan balancing on her left leg, right foot firmly placed against her thigh. "Oh, sorry."

She opened her eyes, shooting him a soft smile as she lowered her elevated leg. "It's OK. I just needed a little bit of yoga before bed tonight."

"Long day?"

"I find that I'm holding tension in my back and shoulders. I assume it's because I'm not adjusted to having Ms. Wick back on rotation."

"Yeah. Get back to yoga — I'll eat."

"Sorry I ate without you. You'd said you'd be late."

He placed both hands on her waist, kissing her. "Glad you did. Finish yoga, and we'll get to bed."

"K." She smiled, returning to her tree pose.

He walked into the kitchen, a happy grin crossing his face as he saw a plate with a few cookies. "Sweet tooth still getting the better of you, huh Bones?" he murmured, reaching into the oven with a hot pad. He turned off the oven, uncovering the plate of steamed vegetables, rice, and chicken.

He sat down at their bar, seeing the glass of wine she had poured for him earlier. As he put the first bite in his mouth, he let out a satisfied sigh.

"Glad you like it."

"Sorry. I'll be quiet."

She smiled. "It's OK. I'm not doing yoga to meditate — just to unwind."

"But you like it quiet."

"True. But I'm almost finished."

"I'll let you finish in peace. But yes, this is delicious."

He watched as his partner stretched and contorted her body on her purple rubber mat, moving seamlessly with the music coming from the TV speakers.

"Bones, that's so hot."

A small smile curved around her lips. "I thought you weren't talking."

"I can't help it. Not when you're doing _that_." He gestured at her. "What's that one called?"

She shook her head and tried not to grin. "Downward facing dog. This is a staple position."

"Well, it's hot." His eyes twitched as Brennan slowly extended one leg into the air. "Now you're just showing off."

"It's part of the stretch," she defended.

"Yeah, your little yoga instructor lady on the TV isn't doing it."

"Well, it's an intermediate variation. She's doing the basic positions."

"I don't mind if you're showing off." He grinned, watching as she put her left leg back down and switched to extend her right leg.

She slowly worked her way back down into child's pose, letting out a grateful sigh as the final stretch worked its magic. "I'm going to shower and then get in bed. Maybe you want to check on Christine?"

Due to his late arrival, Booth had missed putting Christine down for the night. Brennan had kept her awake a little later than normal in hopes that Booth wouldn't have to miss it, but Christine had been intent on falling asleep close to her normal bedtime. Instead of dealing with a cranky baby, Brennan had snapped a photo of Christine cuddling with her blanket and texted it to Booth with the words, "See you in the morning, Daddy. I love you."

"Yeah, I'll go kiss her goodnight. Hey, thanks for the picture earlier, Bones. It was thoughtful."

"You're welcome."

* * *

After cleaning up the kitchen and checking on Christine, Booth headed to the bedroom, a little surprised to still hear the shower going strong. As he stripped to nothing but his boxers, he briefly thought about jumping in with Brennan, then decided to try something else.

He had only had the bathroom door cracked for a minute when he heard Brennan. "You're letting cold air in!"

"Seriously, how did you hear me? I was quiet."

"I felt cold air."

He smiled as he heard her finishing up with her razor. "You're fogging up the bathroom — I can barely see the mirror."

"You don't need to see the mirror to wash your face and brush your teeth."

"True." He reached for his toothbrush, putting toothpaste on hers as well when he heard the water shut off.

Her arm snaked out of the shower, reaching for a towel. "Brrr."

"I'll warm you up." His toothpaste-filled mouth stumbled around the words, and he heard her laugh.

"I have no doubt." She stepped out of the shower, fluffy brown towel wrapped around her, the corner tucked firmly under her right arm. She shook her head as Booth stared at her, almost forgetting to finish brushing his teeth. "What is it about me showering that gets you so excited?"

He grinned, and promptly had to put a finger up to his mouth to catch the toothpaste dripping out of his mouth. He turned and spit into the sink, rinsing out his mouth. "You look good."

"I look drowned." She squeezed her wet hair into another towel, rubbing her head and scalp. "But for some odd reason, you like it."

"Yep."

She rolled her eyes, and reached for her toothbrush. "You're hopeless."

"Yep." He pressed up against her back and gently kissed her damp neck as she brushed her teeth. "Hurry."

She smiled, looking at their reflection in the hazy mirror. After another minute, she bent to rinse out her mouth, unable to refrain from a satisfied sigh as Booth leaned into her.

"You feel good."

"Mmm." She placed her toothbrush in the drawer and turned in his arms, catching her towel with one hand as it loosened a bit.

"Let it go," Booth coaxed, threading one hand through her hair.

She met him halfway for a kiss, tilting her head up as she gently pressed herself into his chest. His free hand slipped between them, stroking her chest through the towel.

"How's that feel?"

"Nice," she breathed, relishing in the sensation of his circling fingers and the damp towel against her sensitive skin.

"Good." He pulled away from her lips and began to kiss her jaw, working his way down to her neck.

She didn't notice as her towel slipped further down her chest, even when Booth gently palmed her, quietly muttering, "You're perfect." His other hand slid to the base of her neck, working its way down her spine with firm touches.

"Don't stop," she begged, enjoying the feel of his mouth against her collarbone.

As Booth's calloused fingers rubbed Brennan's back, he came to a sudden halt when he felt her flinch just slightly. Feeling a small patch of taunt, thin skin under his pointer and middle fingers, he opened his eyes and stared at Brennan's back in the mirror.

Immediately, she squirmed in his arms, desperately trying to pull her towel back over the area. He held her firmly, his pointer finger ghosting over the spot.

"Booth … I'm cold."

"That's not what this is." His eyes bored into the mirror, tracing the red and raised outline on her skin.

"Let me have my towel. Please."

One hand firmly yanked the towel from between them, and he let it fall to the floor. "What the hell is this?"

"Nothing."

He caught her wrist with one hand. "Stop lying. Where'd it come from, Bones?"

"It's nothing."

"You're not answering my questions." He quickly turned her around his arms so that they both faced the mirror. Both of his hands grazed over the area on her back, examining the damaged area. "Where'd it come from, Bones? And how long has it been there?"

"I didn't want you to see it."

"Frankly, I'm surprised I've gone this long without noticing it." He couldn't figure out how he hadn't seen or felt it over the last few days. He turned her again in his arms, tilting her chin up with his finger. "Answer my questions."

"It was an accident."

"Who hurt you?"

She sighed. "Hot grease."

"I asked 'who," not 'what.'"

The words came tumbling out as she buried her face in his chest. "It happened while I worked at the diner in North Carolina two months ago. I was in the kitchen and one of the other cooks didn't know I was behind him. He moved a large vat of grease and accidentally sloshed some on me."

"Did you see a doctor?"

She shook her head. "No, you know we couldn't. Dad helped me make a paste and he put it on a couple times a day. It's fine."

"You're sure it was an accident."

"Yes. Jerry — the cook — he felt terrible. He must have apologized six or seven times."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No." Hurt, she looked up, eyes gleaming with tears. "Booth … I promise. It's the truth."

His mind raced, thinking back on their encounters over the previous nights. She had always let him take top, the lights had been out, his hands hadn't ever stayed on her back for very long, and she had kept her bra on several times. "Bones," he realized, "you've deliberately been hiding this."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry or treat me like I'm going to break. It's just a burn."

"It looks terrible."

"It's healing. It itched today — I accidentally irritated it by scratching. And I pulled it a little doing yoga." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"No more secrets."

She nodded.

"I mean it. No more."

She swallowed. "Does that mean I have to tell you everything tonight?"

"No." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "But no more hiding. We'll keep talking about the last three months until we get everything out."

"I don't want to relive it."

"Me neither."

"Then why do we have to talk about it?"

"Sharing, remember? Everything. Even the hard stuff. Once we get it out there, we don't have to keep burying it, and it can't haunt us." He felt moisture on his chest and realized it wasn't due to the shower. "Hey, shhh. It's OK. I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled, her fingers running up the scar on his chest near his heart.

"Want me to tell you something I've hidden? We'll call it even?"

She nodded, tears still dripping onto his chest.

"I slept with one of your shirts every night for the first month."

Her eyes, still teary, gave him a puzzled look.

"It smelled like you. It was the one you wore on your last night here … the blue one that's starting to get a hole at the bottom. God, Bones, sometimes that shirt was the only thing that could keep me from absolutely losing it every night when I had to go to bed alone." He paused, rubbing her back softly. "Now you think I'm nuts."

She shook her head, refraining from launching into a lecture on how the brain connects scents with memories, thus providing some temporary comfort. "Why only a month?"

Booth exhaled. "And this is where the story gets bad."

Her brow wrinkled. "Why?"

"Your well-meaning best friend came over and did the laundry one day. Washed the towels, the bathmats, the linens, our pillows — and she found your t-shirt in the bed and washed it, too."

"So it didn't smell like me."

"No, it smelled like that crazy fruity detergent you sometimes indulge in."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Apple Mango Tango."

"That's the one." He sighed, looking down at her. "I think I almost shot Angela."

"Over doing the laundry?"

"Over accidentally ruining something that reminded me of you and sometimes helped me sleep at night."

"She didn't tell me about this."

"She wouldn't dream of telling you about it. I was irrationally angry with her. I …" He hesitated.

"No secrets," she prompted him, placing one hand on his cheek.

"I made her cry, Bones. Like we're talking about buckets of tears here. I've never seen her cry like that. I knocked over the laundry basket filled with stuff she had folded. I yelled and screamed at her and told her to leave."

"Did you apologize?"

"Yeah." Booth paused. "Took me two days, but I did."

"Thank you for telling me."

"I'm not proud of it, Bones. I was stupid."

"So was I." She pulled away from him slightly. "As diligent as you are and as much time as we've spent in bed this week, I don't know how I thought I'd get away with hiding a new scar."

He grinned. "Hey, you managed to pull it off for a couple of days. Guess you distracted me pretty good."

"Pretty well," she said, correcting his grammar.

He rolled his eyes and turned her just slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the healing burn. "Got some of that paste?"

"Actually, something better." She dug through her makeup bag and handed him a tube. "Care to help me?"

"Sure." He uncapped the tube and squeezed, letting the ointment out on his fingers.

"Cold!" she hissed as his fingers touched her back.

"Sorry. I'll warm you up …"

"You are shameless."

"Yep."

* * *

_Almost an hour later …_

Brennan slowly sat up in bed, one hand still over Booth's heaving chest. "You alright?" she teased, watching him catch his breath.

"Geez woman. You're going to kill me."

She kissed him sweetly, sliding out of bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Grabbing a shirt."

"You don't need it."

"I do." She opened the dresser, digging through the contents until she found the blue one with a hole at the bottom. "You tend to harass me if I go to bed naked."

"You love my harassment."

"I also love sleep." She pushed the t-shirt over her head, wrinkling her nose. "It _does_ smell like detergent."

"Told you."

"But it's my favorite." She climbed back into bed, pausing as she hovered over him. "And it's never going to smell like me unless I wear it again."

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Why would I? You're back. I don't need that t-shirt. In fact," his eyes glinted as he reached for the hem of her shirt. "You might as well get rid of all your clothes. You're not going to need them. Ever." He caught her off guard, tugging the offending garment right over her head.

"Booth!"

* * *

_Good grief. This ended up being way longer than I anticipated. Sorry about that … but I have a feeling that no one really minded it being long? Hah._

_I might have pulled a couple of you astray last time when I mentioned this chapter was going to include a shower — but hey, it did include a shower._

_Up next: Two options — 1. Booth can't sleep. 2. Brennan accidentally scares Booth during the night. (I realize both of those are vague, but if one interests you more than the other, let me know. As always, feel free to throw in a prompt, and I'll do what I can.)_


	6. Night 6: You don't want us to sleep

_Option #2 was the nearly unanimous decision — thanks for voting. For those of you who were worried, it's not a "Brennan leaves Booth in the middle of the night" scene. (Several reviewers mentioned this has been done a lot — I've only seen it once or twice, so y'all should send me links to a couple stories where this happens. I'm always looking for new reads!)_

_I apologize for the major delay — I can't believe it took me this long! I had a particular idea in my head, but my muse had a whole different angsty chapter that was too dark for me to post after promising a couple of y'all a lighter read. (Don't worry — I got the angst one out of my system, saved it in Word, and proceeded to write this chapter. I'll find a way to post it the angst chapter if anyone is interested — it could be a bonus? Or maybe a night 6.5 — I don't want to end on angst. I actually like it better than this chapter, but didn't want it at this point in the series.) Thanks for being so patient._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Bones, seriously. What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"You've been tossing and turning for ten minutes."

"It's nothing."

He sighed. "Fine."

Several minutes later, he heard a disgruntled sigh.

"We're going to talk about this."

"You're not going to like it."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

"I find that I'm not quite used to sleeping with you yet." She blurted out, then paused, listening as Booth slowly exhaled. "See? I told you."

"It's OK."

"No, it's not." She turned on her side to face him. "I've been back for almost a week. I should be used to this by now."

"It's OK. You'll adjust. I didn't sleep well the first few nights. And neither one of us are great sleepers anyway. "

"You're sure nothing's wrong with me?"

Booth grinned. "Well, I'm not sure about that."

"Booth, I'm asking you a legitimate question."

"Nothing is wrong with you, baby." Booth leaned to kiss Brennan's lips.

"Don't call me 'baby.'"

"See? Point proven."

"You're right." She settled her head on Booth's chest and sighed contentedly as he wound his fingers through her hair and began to massage her scalp.

"I'm never going to get tired of hearing those words come out of your mouth."

"Oh hush."

* * *

An hour or so after settling Brennan down for the night, Booth woke to the feeling of being slightly chilled. Brennan was no longer asleep on his chest, and it felt like the comforter wasn't pulled up high enough.

Correction — the comforter definitely wasn't pulled up enough … because Brennan was busy throwing it off both of them and had sprung out of bed.

Booth rubbed his bleary eyes and watched, dazed. "Bones?"

She didn't hear him, but immediately stripped out of her pajama pants and flung her t-shirt over her head, heading straight for the bathroom.

"You OK?"

She let out a frustrated sigh, and Booth took that as a sign to get out of bed.

"Hey, what's wrong? Still can't sleep?"

She turned on the cold water and let it run over her wrists. "I'm hot."

"That's an understatement." His sleepy eyes unabashedly roamed her body.

"No." She glared at him. "Literally."

"OK…" Booth eyed her warily. "Anything I can do?"

She leaned to splash cold water on her face. "God, Booth. Sleeping with you is like being in a damn furnace! How on earth am I supposed to sleep when it feels like you're burning holes in the sheets!?"

He looked down at the tiled floor, trying his best not to laugh.

"I don't understand how you can heat up the bed like that! It doesn't make sense."

"Wish I could say I'm sorry."

She reached for a towel, blotting the cold water off her face. "You're not sorry?"

"I really can't help it, and I definitely can't complain when it means you're sleeping naked."

"I'm entirely too hot for sex right now. Go turn up the AC. I'm dying."

He stifled another laugh as he walked out of the bathroom, knowing full well that if he'd said, "I'm dying," Brennan would have jumped all over him for uttering something so absurd.

Booth climbed back into bed, sneaking a glance at Brennan, who had halfway covered herself with the sheet. "Better?"

"A little."

"Don't worry, Bones. You're too young for hot flashes."

"Stop it."

He chuckled. "Night."

* * *

Another hour went by, and Booth woke again, this time to the mattress moving just slightly. He winced as Brennan's cold hand came in contact with his chest. "Geez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"No…"

"You're like ice!"

She curled further into him. "I am slightly chilly."

"No, you're freezing," Booth promptly corrected, wrapping both arms around Brennan. "Are you sick?"

"No," she assured him, nestling her face into his shoulder.

"Your nose is an icicle!"

"Don't be ridiculous … mmm, you're so warm."

"Who was just telling me I was a furnace?"

"I'm glad you're a furnace." She shivered and curled her body against Booth's. "Can you turn the air down?"

He groaned. "You can't be serious."

"Please?"

"Only because you asked nicely." He slowly sat up and pulled himself out of bed.

"Hurry back … I'm cold."

He grinned as he pulled the comforter off the floor and draped it over her, then found her discarded t-shirt and tossed it onto the bed. "You're pitiful."

She shook her head fiercely, teeth still chattering. "Nuh uh."

* * *

It was nowhere near time to get up, but once again, Booth found himself waking up before the alarm clock.

"If you're hot again, this is _so_ not my fault," he silently thought, trying to convince his eyes to open.

A jarring shriek promptly startled him awake.

"Bones!" He sat up, reaching for her. "What's wrong?"

"Calf!"

"What?"

"Charley horse!" she gritted out, teeth clenched. "Damn it, help!"

He threw back the covers. "What do you want me to do?"

"Grab it!"

His hands landed on her left calf.

"Other leg!"

"Sorry!" He gripped her right calf with one hand, and her shriek assured him he had the correct leg this time.

"Make it stop!"

"Flex your foot, Bones. Point it towards your head." Booth squeezed Brennan's calf, hoping to give her some relief.

"Ahhhh." Her eyes squeezed shut. "Shit, that hurts!"

For the third time that night, Booth rolled out of bed and promptly appeared on Brennan's side of the bed. "Out."

"What?"

"You've got to stand on it."

"Hell no."

"It'll make it stop. I promise." He swiftly pulled her out of bed, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Raise your left foot off the ground and hold onto me."

Her faced scrunched up and she bit her lip. "Hurts."

"I know. Can you try rolling up on it? Get up on the ball of your foot."

She gripped his t-shirt and groaned. "Ow."

"Just hold it there for a few seconds." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Is it getting better?"

She nodded into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she muttered. "Not your fault."

"Doesn't mean I can't be sorry."

She set her left foot back on the ground, stretching out both calves as she alternated between having her feet flat on the ground to rising up on the balls of her feet.

"Gone?"

"Yes. Thank you." She dropped her hands from his shoulders and circled his waist.

"Got the crazy out of your system for the night?" he teased, rubbing her back.

"I don't know what that means, but I hope so." She sighed. "I'm so tired."

"Could have fooled me."

She looked up at him. "Really?"

"Sarcasm is not your strongest suite … especially at 2 in the morning." He sat back down on the bed, scooting over to his side and letting her follow. "Let's sleep, OK?"

"OK."

Booth noticed the slightest twinge of hesitation in Brennan's response. "Uh oh."

"What?"

"You faltered there for a second. What's wrong now?"

"Nothing."

"Uh uh, don't give me that crap. You and I both know you're lying."

"I'm fine!"

"Tell me."

She huffed.

"Bones."

"I'm thirsty. And a little hungry."

He leaned his head back into the pillow and groaned.

"Sorry."

"Woman, I'm convinced you just don't want us to sleep tonight."

* * *

_Thanks again for all your kind reviews, ideas, follows, and messages. I love the feedback. Next up is our final night! I'm still trying to write it and figure out exactly where I'm going with it — feel free to leave me suggestions or inspiration. Y'all are great!_

_Next up: Booth gets productive during a bout of insomnia._


	7. Night 7: We've got all morning

_Final chapter, and just in time for Bones finally being back on the air! Who's excited?_

_A quick thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, given me suggestions, favorited the story, and answered my questions. Y'all are wonderful._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Brennan rolled over to find the space next to her empty, and she felt the beginning twinges of a headache from last night's split bottle of wine. Reaching for the glass of water on Booth's nightstand, she gulped it down quickly. She glanced in the direction of the master bathroom, expecting to see the light on or hear Booth moving around, but it was dark and silent.

She touched his pillow and ran her fingers over the sheets — cool. Booth had obviously been absent for some time.

She checked her phone and found no evidence that they had been summoned to work. She squinted at the alarm clock and realized it was far too early for Booth to willingly be up on his own.

With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed, grabbing a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. She padded down the hallway to check on Christine, who was blissfully still asleep.

A quick search around the house yielded a hot, full pot of coffee, but no Booth. Brennan poured two mugs and continued her investigation, heading to the back porch after she saw the door slightly ajar.

She set one mug down on the patio table, breaking Booth's focused reverie.

"Hey."

"Hi." She planted a kiss on his waiting lips. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Nightmare?"

He shook his head, reaching for the cup of coffee. "Couldn't shut my brain off."

"I understand."

He gave her a knowing smile. "Join me?"

As she moved to sit, he protested, patting his leg. "No, here."

She didn't argue, giving him a satisfied and sleepy smile as she laid her head against his chest. He adjusted the blanket around both of them, rubbing her shoulder as he sipped the coffee.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the stillness and tranquility of their backyard.

She finally broke the silence, clearing her throat. "While I was away, I watched the sun rise most mornings."

He brushed her hair away from her face. "You did?"

"Yes. Christine went through a period where she wanted to be fed very early. We had a patio or a porch at several of our spots, so I'd bundle us up and nurse her outside. She'd fall back asleep as the sun rose."

"Sounds nice."

"I hate you missed it." Brennan pressed a soft kiss to Booth's neck. "Dad kept trying to assure me that you weren't missing it. He said sunrises and sunsets were two things that didn't change."

Booth gave her a quizzical look.

"Everything changed — except sunrises and sunsets. Some things in nature don't change." She paused, taking a sip of her coffee. "Dad said he and Mom used to watch sunrises and sunsets knowing that Russ and I were seeing the same thing, just in a different location. Everything else might have been different, but those two things were the same."

"Oh. Makes sense."

"I know it's silly, but it made me feel better." Brennan hesitated, and then continued. "Did you watch any sunrises while I was away?"

A slow smile spread across Booth's face. "Yeah."

"You did?"

He nodded.

"But you hate getting up early."

"The only thing that kept me from punching guys all day was if I got in a good run every morning."

She looked at him suspiciously. "That's the only reason you were up early?"

"And … I had trouble sleeping. Figured I might as well get up and try to run out some of my frustration."

"Did it work?"

"Not really."

"So you don't miss sunrise runs?"

"Absolutely not. I'd rather be in bed with you any morning."

She laced one hand with his and turned towards the patio table, noticing the baby monitor and a mess of papers. "Are you working?"

"Not on case stuff."

Curious, her hands grazed the pages, studying the words and numbers until a look of realization dawned on her. "Oh Booth…"

"I'm sorry I didn't get it finished before the two of you got home. I tried, Bones. God, I tried. You can ask Wendell. Poor guy came over every Saturday for five weeks in a row until I admitted I just couldn't do it without you here."

"But these are blueprints."

"Yeah. You're back now. I can work on it."

She gazed up at him, fingers still on the sheets of paper. "Why didn't you do it while we were away? Surely it would have helped distract you?"

"I couldn't. It felt all wrong to be planning something like this without your approval … or disapproval."

She laughed quietly.

"What do you think? I was looking over them one last time and was going to bring them to you in bed this morning."

"It looks wonderful." Her eyes shone with happy tears. "How did you manage all this in a week?"

"Wendell helped me. He's got an architecture buddy, and I had him come take the measurements and figure out the structural soundness and all that stuff."

"When?"

"A couple days ago — the day you got home really late from work."

"Sneaky."

"I know." He reached for another smaller stack of papers. "Have you seen these?"

Her eyes roamed the sheets, and he watched as a delighted smile spread across her face.

"You like it."

Setting the sheets in her lap and placing the coffee cup on the table, she nodded, wrapping both arms around his neck to kiss him. "You're a wonderful man." She paused, biting her lip. "I don't know how Christine and I got so lucky."

He shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. I don't know how I got you and Christine."

She sighed deeply, and glanced back down at the sheets. "Angela, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm surprised she didn't make everything pink and purple."

"I think she intends on Michael spending time here, too. Plus, I didn't want to risk having to redo the interior if we ever have …" He dropped off, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what he had almost said out loud.

"If we ever have?" She prompted, gently nudging him.

"If, uh …"

"Oh." She sat up straight in his lap. "Booth, do you …"

"I …"

The two were awkwardly silent for a few moments.

"I wasn't trying to pressure you." He swallowed. "Maybe we can talk about it?"

"I'm open to the idea." She watched his eyes light up as he unsuccessfully tried to hold back an eager smile.

"You are?"

"Uh huh." She leaned back against Booth's chest, examining the papers again. "Christine will be far better rounded if she's not an only child."

"I agree." Booth watched as Brennan leafed through the documents. "Anything you want to change?"

"Not particularly. Perhaps …"

The baby monitor crackled to life, startling both of them.

"It's early — she may settle back down." Brennan made a face as Christine's cries switched to full-fledged screams. "Or not."

Booth lifted Brennan as he stood, and placed her back in the chair, tucking the blanket around her. "Sit tight. I'll get her."

He returned a few moments later with a sniffling Christine, draped in a soft baby blanket over her footie pajamas.

"Hi sweetheart." Brennan stood, smiling as Christine's tiny arms reached for her mother. "Want to come sit with us?" She let Booth sit back in the chair, and then took Christine, settling both of them in Booth's lap. "Daddy and I were just talking about your treehouse. Remember? I told you he was building you one."

Booth smiled, loving to listen to Brennan interact with their daughter.

"He's done such a good job planning it. And your Aunt Angela has designed everything for the inside. I know you're going to like it."

Christine hiccupped and let out a pitiful whine as she moved her head against Brennan's chest, her tiny hands pawing at the blanket wrapped around her mother.

"She hasn't done this in nearly a month," Brennan remarked, trying to untuck the blanket.

"She's smart. She knew what we were talking about and didn't want to miss anything." Booth smiled as Brennan shook her head with a grin. "She's just showing her dad what she's been up to."

"I think she's just hungry and fussy," Brennan said, wiggling one arm out of her tank top as Christine continued to protest. "Shhh. Just a minute."

Booth grasped one of Christine's flailing hands. "Move your hand, baby girl — it's in the way." He watched as Brennan adjusted Christine. "Can she see?"

"Trust me, she has no problem finding me in the dark." A satisfied smack and the cease of Christine's cries confirmed Brennan's statement.

"Sunset's starting, Bones."

She glanced up, seeing faint glimpses of light through the trees. "It is." She pulled the baby blanket up under Christine's chin. "Tell her about the treehouse."

"Huh?"

"She's quite attentive while nursing, and she likes someone talking to her. Tell her about the treehouse," Brennan repeated, relaxing as she leaned back into Booth.

As if on cue, Christine glanced up at Booth, wide eyed.

"I told her stories about you all the time, you know." Brennan laid her head on Booth's shoulder. "But especially during all those early feedings. It became our morning ritual."

"What'd you tell her?"

"A little bit of everything. I started telling her about our work and how we met, how we took time apart, how we ended up working together again. I've told her some of our cases — edited, of course."

"Good. I don't want my precious baby girl dreaming of serial killers and skeletons."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "She's not."

"What else did you tell her?"

"I've told her lots of stories about her father is a good man. How he doesn't take life lightly, and how he works tirelessly. How he's gracious and kind, yet tough and willing to fight for what's right. How's he's patient and doesn't give up on what he wants."

Booth cut her off by pressing a deep kiss to her lips, which she returned.

"Sounds like I need to start telling her stories about her mom." He smiled mischievously. "Have you told her about slapping me yet?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Really?"

"I told her in hindsight, it probably wasn't the best decision. I've advised her not to be rash or hotheaded. Knowing the two of us, she might have that occasional tendency."

"Nah." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Have you told her about how we fell in love?"

She grinned. "I was leaving that one for you. But that's a long story."

"Well, we've got all morning."

Uttering that sentence brought a simple thrill to Booth — his girls weren't going anywhere. He gave Brennan a tight squeeze, then leaned to place a kiss on Christine's forehead.

"Yes." Brennan sighed contentedly, giving him a peaceful smile. "We do."

* * *

_Thanks again for reading. And happy eve-before-Bones returns!_


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